Oprah’s my girl. Well, for just a few more weeks she is.
I came home from high school and watched her. I watched her at college. I DVRed her when I started my adult job and when my adult job didn’t pay me enough to have a DVR anymore, if it was a particularly good episode, I’d stay up until it was replayed at midnight. Conveniently, now I just have a TV at work and often get to watch the show. Well, for a few more weeks days I do.
I love Oprah so much that I named my blog from one of my favorite quotes of hers.
Doing the best in this moment puts you in the best place for the next.
Sometimes, like when I’m writing my fifth post of the week about the guy who paid for my dinner, talked at me for a few hours, but isn’t near cool enough for me to respond to his future texts, let alone remember his actual name, I wonder, WWOD?
Yeah…What Would Oprah Do?
I’m pretty sure she’d be all, “Um, MJ? That’s not really the spirit of that quote.”
I know, Oprah, I know. And these are the things I won’t be reminded of five times a week anymore. There will be no more aha moments.
Yes I’ve heard the whispers that she’s coming back with her show on her OWN network, but I don’t get OWN at home or at work. This is #singlewhitegirlproblems at their finest.
Which reminds me, today I got off work early and was able to get home in time to enjoy all of Oprah’s fourth to last show from the comfort of my couch and with undivided attention. She got to a segment in which she was laying in bed with Maya Angelou (don’t judge, she’s Oprah and therefore can do WTFSW) and they were discussing another one of my favorite O quotes.
When someone tells you who they are, believe them.
I have never found that to be wrong.
And, I learned a new one. When you’re crying, you’re upset, you’re complaining…
Stop. Say thank you.
So, although I feel like this…
I’m going to suck it up and be grateful for the opportunity to be sad.
Thanks, Oprah. You’re pretty and squishy and smell nice and I love you.